The stone was cold beneath William's palms, and the cold was the...

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2026-06-15 14:37:58 -

The stone was cold beneath William's palms, and the cold was the only honest thing about it.

He was nineteen and kneeling on the flagstones of a monastery chapel in the hills above Limoges, pressing his forehead to the ground in a prayer he had not been taught to believe. Brother Anselm stood behind him, a shadow in a shadowed corner, watching with eyes that had seen too much to be surprised by anything William might do or say. "Rise, William," Anselm said. "The stone doesn't care...

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